


Chick Chick Chick Chick Chicken

by Nope



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-10
Updated: 2003-03-10
Packaged: 2018-12-23 10:11:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11987676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nope/pseuds/Nope
Summary: Ginny kills chickens.





	Chick Chick Chick Chick Chicken

The Quidditch match had ended unexpectedly early -- he'd, almost entirely by accident, caught the snitch three minutes into the game, putting the Harpies back at the top of the League -- which went part way to explain why, when Harry bounced jauntily into the lounge, it was to discover the sofa and armchairs pushed back against the wall and his wife in the middle of the room, covered in chicken guts.

She gave a little gasp of surprise. "Harry! Why are you-- I mean-- Er--"

"Ginny? What's going on?"

"Oh... Nothing, darling," said Ginny, quickly hiding her hands behind her back.

"What's with all the dead chickens?"

"Ah. Er. Well. Um."

"Ginny?"

"Oh, dear," said Ginny. "Oh, dearie, dearie me."

"What the what now?" spluttered Harry.

"Oh, Harry, darling, I meant to tell you honestly, but it just--" Ginny shrugged apologetically. "Well, it slipped my mind."

"What?" gasped Harry, rather discombobulated. "What did?"

"I'm evil, Harry."

"Guh?" he managed.

"Yes, it's true. Totally evil. Bad to the bone, I'm afraid. Immoral. Iniquitous. No good. Lacking in virtue. Pernic--"

"Okay, Ginny, I know what this is," said Harry, suddenly, eyes lighting up. "It's Voldemort, isn't it? He must have gotten into you through the diary--"

"Ah, well, the thing is, Harry, that whole 'Heir of Slytherin' mess in my first year? I made it all up," said Ginny, blushing slightly. "I just wanted attention."

"But, the magic diary--"

"--invisibility cloak, ink eraser and spare quill--"

"--and the basilisk--"

"--piece of string, dangled in front of your glasses--"

"--and Riddle?!" asked Harry, desperately.

"That was me," admitted Ginny, "standing behind a cardboard cut-out and talking in a deep voice."

"But, but--"

"All those people you thought were petrified?"

"Yes?"

"Hairspray," explained Ginny. "Liberal amounts of hairspray. Daddy brought some home. You know how he loves his Muggles. Oh, and remember Dobby?"

"What about him?"

"That was me, too."

"No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"Oh, yes. Bit of paint, some contacts, walk on my knees and talk in a silly voice -- 'Mister Harry loves his Wheezy, sir' -- it's really quite amazing what you can do with makeup these days. Didn't you ever wonder why we were never seen together?"

"Oh," said Harry, then "Ohhh" followed quite rapidly by "Ewwww!"

"And, well, do you remember how Dudley was suddenly so friendly during the summer of your sixth year?"

"...yes?"

"That was me as well, I'm afraid. It was lucky he was so fat, really. I mean, even after I'd hollowed him out, he was a very snug fit. And the hard part was keeping him fresh, of course; that's why he was always standing in front of the open freezer, you see, not a weird food fetish like I told you and-- Harry? Harry, darling?"

Harry had fainted clean away. Sadly, in a most unfortunate direction.

"Damn," muttered Ginny. "I am never going to get the guts off those robes."


End file.
